


all i've got

by orphan_account



Category: Withnail & I (1986)
Genre: F/F, No One Wanted This, Thanks, but i did it anyway, withnail and marwood are lesbians i don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: withnail and marwood have sex in the backseat of a car.
Relationships: Peter Marwood/Withnail
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	all i've got

**Author's Note:**

> hey! you certainly didn't ask for this, thanks for reading!

The sun shines a little brighter on the highway, Marwood decided, squinting to see the stretch of black asphalt in front of her even with her sunglasses on. It’s not like it was doing anything, either, it was fucking freezing despite the sunshine and Marwood’s car heater had stopped working normally years ago. The cold didn’t bother her too much, she looked nice in sweaters-- Withnail sure thought so, at least. So Marwood really couldn’t complain, as long as her car sang out Jimi Hendrix and got her to where she needed to be, everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be fine, except she couldn’t fucking see. She wasn’t a very good driver anyway, and the sun blinding her made her even more of a hazard to the road. “I’m going to pull over and take a nap,” she said to Withnail, who was lounging in the passenger seat. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and Marwood had given up trying to get her to act like a person. Withnail’s recklessness was kind of sexy if not anxiety inducing, and Marwood was vaguely obsessed with the way Withnail always seemed to really feel the music playing on the radio, the way the cold wind blew her hair, the way she was effortlessly cool, even when she was just sitting in the car. 

“You’re taking a nap at four in the afternoon?” Not a very valid criticism coming from Withnail, who notoriously stayed up for nights in a row and slept at odd hours, and Withnail knew damn well that Marwood’s sleeping habits were just as odd as her own. 

“I’m going to pull over and have sex with my girlfriend then,” Marwood paused, the term ‘girlfriend’ seemed trivial and not quite serious enough, not quite enough for her relationship with Withnail. If not girlfriends, then what? Partners? Lovers? “If she’s fine with that, of course.” 

Withnail was, of course, fine with that, always one for spontaneity-- whether it be a trip to the countryside or sex in the back of a car on the side of the highway. 

There is not a way to gracefully climb into the backseat of a car from the front seat, but laughing over their mutual clumsiness felt intimate, and when all their limbs were in the backseat safely, they wrapped themselves around each other, kissing, creating friction. Marwood began to wonder where her body ended and where Withnail’s began, and then decided it didn’t matter. 

Withnail slipped her hands under the hem of Marwood’s sweater. “You’re cold,” she said, but maybe it was just the surprise of contact with Marwood’s soft skin.  
“Warm me up.” Marwood said, soft and calculated. Withnail wanted this moment to last forever, her hands on her cold skin, she’d warm Marwood up until they could melt together. Withnail kissed Marwood, and she ran her hands up Marwood’s body, feeling over her stomach, her ribs, feeling her tits and her nipples and her heartbeat. Marwood pulled her jacket off and laid back, constrained by the limited space of the backseat of the damn car, and Withnail laid on top, suddenly conscious of the way Marwood might feel underneath her. It was easy for Withnail to be loud and demand the attention of a room, but less easy to be physically on top like this-- before Marwood, no one had ever trusted her to roll on top of them and keep them warm, keep them safe, make them feel good. 

She wanted to make Marwood feel good. She kissed her again, slow and wet. The glistening sun reflecting off of the car windows made Marwood look like she was glowing, or maybe that was the sweat (she wasn’t so cold anymore), or maybe just Withnail’s imagination. It didn’t matter. Withnail shifted, and Marwood undid her trousers-- they were too big for her but she could not be bothered to buy new ones. Maybe she’d land a leading role and treat herself to a new pair, or maybe her and Withnail would settle down into a love nest and never wear pants again. 

Withnail wouldn’t mind spending a pants-less life with Marwood. With one hand, she felt Marwood up-- softly kneading her breast under Marwood’s red sweater. With her other hand, she touched Marwood, so slowly it was agonizing, her fingers grazed through Marwood’s pubes and over her vulva. She slipped two fingers into Marwood. “You’re wet,” she noted, trying to make conversation.  
“For you, Withnail,” Marwood said, her eyes closed, her hair a mess, her voice breathier than normal. “Please keep touching me.” 

Withnail didn’t need to be told twice, of course, eventually finding Marwood’s clit and rubbing, finding a pace that made Marwood moan her name. Withnail had never heard her name moaned quite so nicely, and she never wanted to hear anyone else say her name again. She fucked Marwood until she came, she fucked Marwood in the backseat of that car like they were teenagers. It wasn’t the first time and maybe it wasn’t the best time, but she would always come back to that moment: the afternoon highway sunlight just a little too bright, her best friend blissed out in her arms. She felt blissful too.


End file.
